Glass
by tillieeee
Summary: Like fairydust, fallen from the sky. You're coated in it - yet the black of your eyes has none. What a blurred world it truly is. // MM.


SIT THERE, RAIN IN YOUR EYES. THE ENTIRE WORLD GLITTERS TONIGHT, SPARKLES

CRUSHED UNDERFOOT. LIKE FAIRYDUST, FALLEN FROM THE SKY. YOU'RE COATED IN

THAT --- AND YET THE BLACK OF YOUR EYES HAS NONE IT. YOU JUST CAN ADMIRE, T

HOUGH, WISHING THAT YOU COULD TWIST SHIFT _CHANGE_ AND BE ONE OF THOSE

BEAUTIFUL, GLITTERING PIECES: DOESN'T EVERYONE? GOD KNOWS YOU'RE BROKEN

ENOUGH, SHARP AND FALLEN AND OUT OF PLACE, ONE OF MANY WHOS FACES BLEN

D INTO A MOTORCYCLE RIDE AT TWO IN THE MORNING, BLURRED. WHAT A BLURRE

D WORLD IT TRULY IS, WITHOUT THE BRIGHT, REASSURING CLARITY OF THOSE TEE

NAGE YEARS. IT SCARES YOU THAT THE MEMORIES DON'T COME. BUT THAT'S WHAT

FADED PHOTOGRAPHS STUCK IN BETWEEN NOTEBOOKS AND TRUNKS ARE FOR, FOR

REMINDING YOU THAT THERE WAS A TIME WHEN YOU DIDN'T ENVY BROKEN LIQU

OR BOTTLES SMASHED IN A DIRTY GUTTER, SOAKED WITH RAINWATER AND YET SO

BEAUTIFUL TO SOMEONE WHO DOESN'T REMEMBER. SHE KNOWS THIS FEELING -- IT

S A VACANT HOTEL IN HER STOMACH, CARVED OUT BY IRON, BUTTERFLIES DROVEN

OUT WITH STICKS AND STONES. THERE'S NO ROOM HERE FOR DOUBTS. IT'S HOW SHE

WORKS, ANYWAYS --- DO WHAT NEEDS TO BE DONE AND DON'T STOP TO THINK ABO

UT IT. IT'S A STUPID WAY TO LIVE: RACING THROUGH LIFE NOT CHECKING AROUND

THE CORNER, JUST A SWIFT [i]SWERVE[/i] JUST TO HEAR THAT WHOOOOSH OF WINN

ING IN YOUR EARS THAT KEEPS YOU GOING UNTIL THE NEXT BIG LEAP, UNTIL THE

NEXT SECOND WHERE YOU MAY BE OR NOT BE. IT'S WHAT SHE LIVES FOR. THAT SEN

SE THAT YES, YOU'RE ALIVE, AND THAT IS SO BITTERSWEET. A PASSING CAR SHOOTS

BY LIKE STARS AND ITS RED LIGHT GLIMMERS ON THE SLICK PAVEMENT, DAWDLING,

BEFORE DISAPPEARING INTO THE BLACK HOLE AT THE END OF YOUR VISION, BRIGH

T FLOWERS BLOOMING BEHIND YOUR EYES AS A PUNISHMENT OF ADMIRING SUCH

BRIGHT-BRIGHT-TOO-BRIGHT THINGS ON SUCH A DARK TIME. WHAT IS THIS YOU F

EEL? SHAME, PERHAPS? THAT FACETIOUS LITTLE CHUCKLE OF PAIN INSIDE THAT C

ARVED OUT HOLE INSIDE YOU, WHICH YOU WILL TO THINK NOTHING OR ANYTHI

NG? IF YOU THINK, YOU MIGHT POSSIBLY DIE. IT'S A DANGEROUS AND STRANGE TH

ING. SHE DOESN'T FEAR DYING ANYMORE -- WHAT'S ONE MORE PERSON AMONG HU

NDRED? AND THE FACT THAT IT'S HER, WHO HAS COMMITED THOUSANDS OF SINS

AND SLEPT WITH OTHER BOYS AND SMOKED CIGARETTES AND GONE SKINNY-DIPP

ING(WHICH FEELS LIKE SUCH, [i]SUCH[/i] A LONG TIME AGO -- ANOTHER LIFE) IS BETT

ER THAN SOME INNOCENT MUGGLE WHO HAS NO IDEA WHAT OR WHY OR HOW T

HEY DIED, SIMPLY A GREEN BEAM LIGHTING UP THE WORLD ALL THEY REMEMBER.

SHE'D RATHER IT BE HER THAN SEEING GLASSY, OBLIVIOUS EYES, WHIMPERING Y

OUNG CHILDREN, AND THOSE COUPLES, GODDAMNED COUPLES, WHO THEY SOMET

IMES FIND HOLDING HANDS, INTERWINED ONE LAST TIME, AND NO ONE EVEN KNO

WS WHAT SHE WOULD FUCKING [i]DO[/i] TO THOSE BAT-SHIT CRAZY BASTARDS IF SHE

COULD. IF IT WOULDN'T MESS UP HER WORLD, IF THERE'S ANYTHING LEFT TO MESS

UP. WHO KNOWS? MAYBE THIS IS HER LAST NIGHT, MAYBE AROUND THAT NEXT AL

LEY SHE'LL BE CORNERED BY DEATH EATERS AND THAT'LL BE 'THE END' OF MARLEN

E MCKINNON. SHE LIKES TO DWELL ON WHAT-IFS, IN THE SPARE TIME THAT DOESN

T EXIST. WHAT IF THE ORDER WAS NEVER FORMED? WHAT IF SHE'D BEEN A SLYTH

ERIN? WHAT IF SHE'D BEEN BORN A PUREBLOOD INSTEAD OF A PILE OF STEAMING

SHIT MUDBLOOD? WHAT IF SHE HADN'T EATEN THAT PIECE OF CINNAMON TOAST

FOR BREAKFAST? (WELL, HONESTLY, MARLENE CAN TELL YOU THE ANSWER TO TH

AT ONE -- HER JEANS WOULD BLOODY FIT RIGHT.) BUT NOW HER CLOTHES HANG

OFF, HER HAIR HANGS LOOSE, AS DO THE POOLS UNDER HER EYES. SHE IS SHEER

CONTRAST IN ITS MOST RAW FORM, MADE OF ALL LOOSE DRAPES AND AT THE SAM

E TIME SHE IS EDGES -- SHARP, RAW, UNTOUCHED EDGES THAT CAN SWIPE A ROO

M OF ALL CONVERSATION AT A WORD OR MAKE HER CRY AT NIGHT, ALONE. WHA

T THESE LOOSE CURVES AND SHARP EDGES ADD UP TO, SHE HAS NO IDEA. BUT TH

AT IS A COMMON THING IN THESE TIMES. WHY DOESN'T ANYONE UNDERSTAND?

SHE JUST DOESN'T [i]KNOW[/i]. NO, MUM, I DON'T KNOW WHETHER I'LL BE ABLE T

O VISIT FOR CHRISTMAS. (I DON'T KNOW IF I'LL BE ALIVE, YOU SEE.) SHE CAN'T SAY

THINGS LIKE THAT. IF MARLENE, WHO'S SUPPOSED TO BE THE CONFIDENT, BAD

ASS, I-DON'T-GIVE-A-DAMN ONE, GIVES UP, WHO DOES THAT LEAVE? EVERYTHIN

G CRUMBLES LIKE THEIR SUPPORT HAS FALLEN IN ON ITSELF, AND IT'S DUST. EV

ERYTHING IS DUST. WHAT KIND OF PERSON WOULD THAT MAKE HER, THEN? EVI

L, PERHAPS, DEATH EATER MATERIAL? MARLENE LAUGHS AT THAT ONE, HERSEL

F AS A DEATH EATER. THE ORDER WOULDN'T STAND A CHANCE WITH MARLENE

WIELDING HER SHARP TONGUE AND MERCILESS WIT, UNLEASHED, FOR ONCE. T

HEY'D BE SCARED. SHE WOULD SEE THE FEAR IN SOMEONE'S EYES, TRULY. SHE NE

EDS TO SEE THAT. SHE'S TIRED OF BEING WEAK AND TIRED AND EXHAUSTED, ALL

THE TIME. FOR FUCK'S SAKE, THEY'RE [i]TWENTY YEARS OLD[/i]. FUCK, NO ONE THAT AGE

SHOULD BE WONDERING IF DEATH IS AROUND THE CORNER, SHOULD BE BEING A

WOKEN AT THREE IN THE MORNING TO RUSH TO A MUGGLE'S HOUSE AND FIND T

HE LOT OF THEM, FIVE IN ALL, DEAD, LIMBS TORN AND TEAR TRACKS STILL FRESH

ON THEIR FACES. SHE SHOULD BE OUT CLUBBING, HOOKING UP WITH STRANGERS,

DRINKING HER BLOODY GUTS OUT AND THEN PUKING IT ALL OUT, NOT STRIVING

TO GET ATLEAST FIVE HOURS OF SLEEP THIS WEEK. SLIGHTLY INTRIGUED AND MO

STLY ENRAGED BY THE IDEA, MARLENE SLIPS OUT A CIGARETTE FROM THE BACK

POCKET OF HER FADED JEANS THAT HAVE SEEN THE WORLD MORE THAN SHE HA

S, OPTING FOR A LIGHTER INSTEAD OF THE RISK OF HER WAND. THIS PUZZLES H

ER ESPECIALLY, HAD SHE NOTICED. AT OTHER TIMES, SHE WOULD'VE JUMPED AT

RISKS, GOBBLED THEM LIKE APPLE TARTS FRESH FROM THE OVEN. A DEEP, THOUG

HTFUL DRAG DOESN'T CALM HER SLIGHTLY SHAKING HANDS, MARLENE NOTICES

BITTERLY, STUBBING THE CIGARETTE ON HER PALM, WINCING AT THE SLIGHT BU

RN. SHE DROPS IT TO THE PAVEMENT AND CRUSHES IT WITH THE TOE OF HER T

RAINERS, ADDING A SMEAR TO THE CANVAS OF BROKEN GLASS AND SHIFTING L

IGHT THAT THE CITY BRINGS. IT'S A WARM, JUST RAINED SORT OF NIGHT, WHER

E WAR CASUALTIES SQOOSH UNDER HER TRAINERS AND HER LEATHER JACKET

IS NOTHING BUT A FAMILIAR COMFORT SNUGGING HER BODY. SUDDENLY INSPI

RED, MARLENE DOES SOME SORT OF BALLET LEAP TURN, JUMPING UP HIGHER T

HAN A DEER AND POINTING HER TOES INSIDE HER CANVAS TRAINERS. SHE USE

D TO TAKE BALLET, A LONG TIME AGO, SOME 15 YEARS OR SO, AND SHE KNOWS TH

IS ONE IS A COMPLICATED NAME WITH LOTS OF DOUBLE 'T'S AND THE SUCH. ONL

Y AFTER SHE LANDS AND COMPLETES A SHAKY PIROUETTE DOES MARLENE REAL

IZE THAT SHE'S LAUGHING, THAT FAMOUS MARLENE LAUGH THAT SHE'S MISSED

SO MUCH. UNSURE, SHE SMILES AGAIN AND THERE IT IS, THAT HOARSE BUT BEA

UTIFUL LAUGH, LILTING AND RASPY. AND ALL OF A SUDDEN, THAT'S ALL THERE

IS. LAUGHTER, LAUGHTER, AND MARLENE FEELS SO SILLY FOR BEING SUCH A STU

PID ANGSTY WORRYWART LIKE SHE USED TO MAKE FUN OF, AND THAT'S ALL THE

RE IS, THAT BEAUTIFUL IMPERFECT LAUGHTER. AND YOU JUST DANCE, YOU JUST

FLY, THROWING YOUR ENTIRE SOUL AND HEART OUT THERE TO JUST [i]BE[/i] LIKEE

YOU DIDN'T EVEN REMEMBER TO DO, BUT NOW IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL. THE ENTIRE W

ORLD SPARKLES BEHIND HER, UNFOCUSED, BLURRED. THE CHEAP NEON LIGHTS F

ROM THE SEEDY LOOKING BUILDING ACROSS THE STREET BEAMS ACROSS HER FAC

E, CHANGING. A MAN WITH HOOD DRAWN BLACK OVER HIS FACE RAISES HIS EYE

BROWS AND GOES ON, BUT MARLENE DOESN'T NOTICE. SHE DOESN'T CARE. THE ST

RANGER IS GONE, INSIDE HER. WHO KNOWS? WHAT IF? TO BE OR NOT TO BE, AND

THE ANSWER IS BECOMING CLEARER. SHE STILL DOESN'T KNOW. SHE DOESN'T KNO

W, BUT NOW SHE DOESN'T CARE. LIFE AND DEATH AND BEAUTY WILL GO ON.

AND DESPITE THE SWIRL OF RAIN AND TEARS AND CONCRETE POLAROIDS LIKE

STONES IN YOUR STOMACH, THE PHOENIX RISES. THE ENTIRE WORLD SPARKLES.


End file.
